


Cobblers and Karate

by nothingeverlost



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:22:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingeverlost/pseuds/nothingeverlost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diner owner Phil has an early morning tradition</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mornings

Melinda May opened her studio at five thirty. The first class was at eight, but the first hour was for her own workout in the uninterrupted silence. The hour after that was when she cleared her desk of bills, e-mails, and other pesky details necessary to make a business run. She valued the solitude.

With one exception.

"Can I tempt you with a blackberry turnover? It’s still warm." Phil Coulson had long since stopped knocking. He never showed up before six thirty, but he was always in the studio before seven with a cup of coffee. Usually he brought food as well.

"Half a turnover." She watched as he tore the pastry in two pieces, noting the red welt on one finger. He noticed her noticing.

"Hazard of the job," he said with a shrug. "Just tell me that’s worth it."

"Even better than the apple last week." She sat on the edge of the desk, taking the time to enjoy the tart sweetness of the berries and the butter of the pastry that almost melted as she took each bite. As early as she got to work she knew Phil was always there earlier. His diner was known for the baked goods served in the morning as well as the best buns in town.

People weren’t always talking about the brioche he served the burgers on. Melinda had seen the women that chose the counter over a booth and liked to watch him walk away. She was pretty sure Phil was oblivious to it.

"There’s asparagus cream soup on the menu today. I found the first of the season at the market this morning. It’s gonna be good, especially with a ham sandwich on the side. Want me to have Jemma bring you an order?"

"I’ll let you know later." She might manage to get a long enough break to walk all the way next door ad get her own lunch. And say hello. "Thanks for the coffee."

"It’s a nice way to start the day." He picked up the mug from the day before. "Have a good class, Melinda."

"Have a good breakfast crowd."


	2. Blueberry Cobbler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Melinda avoids the lunch crowd.

The lunch rush was over. Melinda always waited until well past the lunch hour before going next door. She didn’t like crowds when she didn’t have room to move. She didn’t like taking a seat a paying customer might use. And she figured the least she could do is not add to her neighbor’s busiest hour.

"You can take a seat anywhere. I’ll bring you a menu." The girl who greeted her when she came in was obviously new. Her temporary name tag spelled out ‘Skye’ in a handwriting far too neat to be Phil’s.

"I don’t need a menu." She headed for one of the stools at the counter; she never sat anywhere else. If she was lucky there was blueberry cobbler left, but some of Phil’s desserts ran out before lunch ended.

"Are you sure you don’t want a menu? The…"

"Skye why don’t I show you how to clean the bathrooms?" Jemma took the menu from the new girl and led her away. "Hello Ms. May."

Melinda nodded. Jemma had been working since the diner opened, saving up enough to pay for college. Melinda always made sure to leave her a tip.

"Couldn’t resist the lure of the cobbler, could you?" Despite the fact that he’d already put in a longer than eight hour day Phil looked cheerful. The man smiled too much.

"I might eat a piece if you have any left." She shrugged, but couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up.

"I might have set a piece aside before the lunch monsters got to it all." From somewhere under the counter he pulled out a bowl of cobbler, the berries a deep purple. "Do you want your cream iced or whipped?"

"You didn’t have to do that."

"Half the people who come in here are philistines and wouldn’t appreciate the balance the bourbon and hint of vanilla bring to the berries. Just oh and ah over my creative genius and it’s well earned."

"Thanks Phil. And ice cream, please." It meant an extra fifteen minutes of running, but it would be worth it.

"Good choice."


	3. Where There's Smoke

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grease fires happen

Grease fires weren’t unusual in kitchens. He was lucky someone had seen the smoke and called 911, because he could have lost more than the stove. He might have lost the whole place. The smoke alarm hadn’t been triggered.

Grease fires weren’t unusual, but there was no grease on his stove. He’d cleaned it himself, and all the grease was stored under the sinks in the wash room, for just this reason. The ducts were cleaned weekly; Fitz was methodical about it.

It was a mystery.

”Phil?” He’s lost track of the time. The firefighters were gone, leaving him with a kitchen full of chemical residue and smoke stains. He wasn’t going to be able to open today. Probably not tomorrow either unless he limited his menu. The ovens worked, but that didn’t help him when it came to soups, sauces, or half the things he served for breakfast.

"Phil?" He wasn’t sure how many times she said his name before he looked up to find Melinda in the doorway, frowning.

"Hey." The stove was a loss, but everything else needed to be cleaned before he had any hopes of opening. There didn’t seem to be any point waiting. He knew he had to be as smoke stained as the room; he must present an interesting sight. "Sorry, no coffee yet."

"You’re alright?" Black should be the last color he wanted to see right now, considering how much of his kitchen was tainted with the color. But Melinda was wearing a black tank top and black yoga pants, and that was a different story completely. She looked fresh and clean. And worried.

"Yeah, I wasn’t here. Only casualty of the day is the stove." And possibly the jeans and shirt he was wearing, if he couldn’t get the smell of smoke out of them.

"What do you need?" He should be surprised that she asked. He’d heard a few people around his diner whisper about how she didn’t show emotion and seemed distant. Ice queen had been used more than once and it had been hard to walk past and not tell people to get the fuck out of his diner. He knew that she showed plenty of emotions; you just needed to know how to read the twitch at the corner of her mouth, the wry smile, and her eyes. There was a world of knowledge if you could understand what her eyes said. He was only a beginner at translating, but he could see.

"Other than a time machine?" The diner had been locked up for almost five hours when the firetruck had arrived. Was it a leak in the gas line? Faulty wiring? It wasn’t like anyone broke in to start the fire.

"I was thinking more along the lines of scrubbing. You have more rags?" she asked as she used a band around her wrist to pull her hair into a pony tail. He loved hen she did that.

"You don’t have to. The staff will be here in an hour." He hadn’t called them yet. He knew what time each of them would arrive, and decided it would be better to head for the parking lot and warn them in person. There was no point making them worry. At least not any more than he knew they would already.

"If my studio caught on fire and I told you I didn’t need help would you listen?" Melinda arched a single eyebrow.

"How about I start some coffee for us? Machine’s out front so it’s safe to use. I think most the damage in here is from the firefighters, not the fire."

"Not all of it." She frowned at the stove. 

"It could have been worse," Phil said with a shrug. He was lucky. In more than one way.


End file.
